For the sake of the king
Commentary
Object:
In our Old Testament passage this week, we read the poignant story of Absalom's rebellion and defeat. We recognize it as perhaps the lowest point of David's eventful life. And in the midst of that story, we read this compelling word spoken by David to the commanders in his army: "Deal gently for my sake with the young man Absalom" (2 Samuel 18:5).
It is not the traditional instruction of a man at war. It is not the conventional strategy of a king toward his enemy. Rather, this is the peculiar policy of a father who has been overthrown by his son.
I wonder sometimes about the details of that overthrow. In the preceding chapters, we read magnificent accounts of David's military exploits. First, he effectively subdued the neighboring nations -- peoples who had been constant trouble for the tribes of Israel during the time of the judges and the reign of Saul. David expanded the boundaries of Israel in every direction, forcing the neighboring peoples to pay him tribute. Not long before Absalom's revolt, we see David defeat a Syrian force of 700 chariots and 40,000 horsemen (2 Samuel 10:18), and before that he beat back an opponent of some 33,000 (v. 6). Could it possibly be that Absalom's co-conspirators outnumbered these other recent foes, whom David and his men dispatched rather easily?
Early in the conspiracy, we read that Absalom acquired for himself a chariot and fifty men to run before him (2 Samuel 15:1). An entourage for hire. And then, when the moment of revolt came, we see that the ambitious son had surrounded himself with 200 people, who were innocently sucked into the revolt (v. 11). It may well be that Absalom had won the hearts of multitudes, but still I am skeptical that he truly presented a force that could rival David and his armies, which had effectively gained control of the entire region.
How is it, then, that Absalom's homemade revolt was sufficient to send David into exile? If it had been anyone else in the land, do we imagine that it could have come to this -- the king fleeing Jerusalem in ignominy? No, I suspect that any other revolt would have been crushed quickly and completely. But the situation is different when the enemy is the king's son.
2 Samuel 18:5-9, 15, 31-33
What do you do when your enemy is your son?
The story and reign of David is filled with unparalleled highs and unrivaled lows. This episode is among those lows. David had been belittled by his brothers at a young age, but that was a small offense compared to this. He had been taunted by the Philistine giant, and he was quickly vindicated there. He was unjustly pursued and persecuted by King Saul, though the Lord surely protected him through it all. He was snubbed by Nabal, mocked by Michal, frequently frustrated and disappointed by the sons of Zeruiah, corrected by Nathan, and grieved by Amnon. Yet this episode is surely the lowest point in David's eventful life.
For some time, David had been estranged from his son Absalom. We sense that there was great tension and awkwardness between them in the wake of Tamar's rape and Amnon's murder. There was, perhaps, unspoken love on David's part, as well as unspoken bitterness on Absalom's part. It festered to the point where Absalom began to undermine his father among the people.
Eventually, as is almost always the case, what was covert became overt. Absalom rebelled against his father, usurping the throne, and driving David into exile. Now David's forces had to do battle with the forces of Absalom. David found himself at war with his own son, what's a man to do when his enemy is his son?
The king ordered (his officers) saying, "Deal gently for my sake with the young man Absalom." That is a poignant command. There was no dealing gently with the Philistines, the Moabites, or the Amalekites of earlier conflicts. There was no dealing gently with Goliath, in the first and most famous of David's battles. But this was a different case -- a heart-wrenching case. What exactly does victory look like for David in this situation? In the end, we see that victory looks like heartbreak and tragedy.
The men who are loyal to David are pragmatic about Absalom: He is the enemy. And so they killed him. Indeed, one senses from the text that it may have been overkill.
Then the news of this unhappy triumph reached David. But when a messenger from the battle arrived, the king did not ask about any of his soldiers or his commanders or his country or his throne. He asked about his son. The answer, posed as good news, was what David had dreaded most.
So now David had his kingdom back, but he had lost his son. It was not a trade he had wanted to make. David disappears from the scene, he cries out in bitter lament, exclaiming what he wished had happened, instead: "Would I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!"
Ephesians 4:25--5:2
We have several samples of this sort of material in the letters of Paul. I think of them as "quickie instructions." This is not an extended explanation of and teaching about, say, marriage and divorce, eating meat that had been offered to idols, or the Gentiles' relationship to the law. Rather these verses are comprised of ethical one-liners: succinct reminders of what it looks like for those early Christians to live out their faith with one another.
Because there is so much variety squeezed into so few verses, we can hardly do justice to each instruction here. Likewise, we could hardly give adequate attention to all of these words of counsel in a single sermon this Sunday. Our goal instead, should be to see each instruction as part of a larger whole.
That larger whole, it seems to me, is captured in the first verses of chapter 5. The believers are encouraged to "be imitators of God" and to "live in love, as Christ loved us." While the folks who divided the text into chapters and verses evidently saw this as new material, I think that the folks who determined the lectionary readings knew better. I believe that the final verses of chapter 4 are best understood in connection with the first verses of chapter 5.
We see a parallel passage, it seems to me, in Jesus' Sermon on the Mount. Through the second half of Matthew 5, Jesus gives specific instructions about how to respond to mistreatment, how to treat enemies, how to love indiscriminately, and such. Then, at the end of the chapter, he sums up the whole matter with God's own example, saying, "Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect" (Matthew 5:48).
So, too, with these instructions from Paul. The details involve such issues as falsehood, anger, theft, evil talk, bitterness, malice, and such. Yet when it's all said and done, the underlying principle in all of it is, simply, that the people should imitate God and live in love.
The underlying Greek word in 5:1 is mimetes. Our English words "mime" and "mimic" trace back to the same root, which gives us a good sense of what Paul is encouraging the believers to do. We are to mimic God. "Watch what God does," Eugene Peterson renders it, "and then you do it" (Ephesians 5:1a, The Message).
Meanwhile, the key word in 5:2 is peripateo. We recognize the English derivatives involved here too. We note that the King James Version and New American Standard Bible translate it "walk in love" rather than "live in love." In either case, the image is of love becoming our daily routine -- the thing we do habitually rather than occasionally, the rule rather than the exception.
The twin counsels of 5:1 and 5:2, of course, are themselves two ways of saying the same thing: To imitate God is to live in love. And to the extent that we make that our standard operating procedure, then we will naturally "speak the truth to our neighbors," "give up stealing," "let no evil talk come out," and "put away all bitterness" and such. If we imitate him, then of course we will "not make room for the devil," "not grieve the Holy Spirit," and "be kind… tenderhearted (and) forgiving."
In a computer-immersed age, our people will likely recognize the image of "clicking on" something only to have some explanation or elaboration of that thing open up. So it is with this passage. If we "click on" imitating God or walking in love, then the specifics of 4:25-32 will all come up: for they explain what it means to live and love like God.
John 6:35, 41-51
In the gospel of John, the question of "who" is intimately bound up in the question of "where." Who we understand Jesus to be is a function of where we understand that he came from. For as long as the people presume that he is just from Nazareth (John 1:46), just from Joseph (John 6:42), and just from the immediate generation (John 8:57), they are doomed to misunderstand him. In this passage, as in so many throughout the fourth gospel, Jesus' "who" is revealed by his "where." He is from God. He is from heaven.
In this particular instance, he is portrayed specifically as the "bread from heaven." It is a potent image with at least three layers: historical, practical, and sacramental. Each one is at play in our passage, so let us give a moment's thought to each.
First, there is the historical component, which hearkens back to the manna of Moses' day. While that original generation had the bad habit of turning up their noses at God's daily bread, it was rightly cherished by later generations as a testament to the miraculous power and provident care of God. So the ancient memory of the manna was gilded by time, and it was a very significant element of the nation's testimony with which Jesus was identifying himself.
We may do well to ponder for a moment how conversant our people are in the principle of Old Testament patterns, types, and foreshadowing of Jesus. They are likely accustomed to straightforward prophecies, which they associate with Christmas (e.g., Isaiah's promise of Emmanuel or Micah's highlighting of Bethlehem). Stories, characters, and practices that anticipate Jesus, however, may be less familiar to the present generation than they were to their parents and grandparents. The serpent on the pole, Melchizedek, the scapegoat, the Passover Lamb -- all these and more may be largely lost in the prevailing biblical illiteracy. So, too, may be lost the ability to understand the premise of this passage: that Jesus is pointing back to an event in Israel's history and treating it as a type that points to himself.
That brings us to the practical layer of this "bread from heaven" imagery. Just as the writer of Hebrews is insistent on Jesus' superiority to all the forerunners that anticipated the person and work of Christ, so Jesus claims his superiority to the cherished manna of old. The ancestors ate of that former bread from heaven, he observed, but they died. That fact does not diminish the miracle of the manna, of course, it simply points to the very temporary nature of that bread. By contrast, Jesus says, "Whoever eats of this bread will live forever."
Bread was understood as one of life's staples. Moses' generation in the wilderness needed it to stay alive. The crowds of John 6:34 knew their practical need for bread, as well. But there is a greater need and a greater bread!
Finally, in the eating of that greater bread, we recognize a sacramental layer in this language and imagery. While this episode is several chapters removed from John's account of the Last Supper, we see the anticipated connection. Jesus is identifying himself with bread, identifying that bread with his flesh, and identifying the eating of that bread with eternal life. This is not the moment when he takes the bread, breaks it, and says, "This is my body, which is broken for you," but we certainly understand this passage in light of that later moment.
Application
So it was that David fled before the advance of Absalom. As we noted above, it seems unlikely that David would have been so easily defeated -- even if only temporarily -- by any other opponent. In this case, however, one senses that David was inclined to surrender early. In this conflict, however, my guess is that David preferred to flee than to fight.
When the whole terrible episode is over, we see David overcome with grief. As he laments the death of his son, he says that he wishes he had died, instead. I suspect that is the truth. I expect that David would rather lose at his own expense than win at the expense of his son.
Accordingly, he gives his commanders the crucial instruction: "Deal gently for my sake with the young man Absalom." As we have already noted, the command is full of pathos. It is not the emotion but the logic of David's instruction that brings it close to home for us: "for my sake."
David's officers and soldiers were loyal to him. Their allegiance belonged to him and to his throne. So everything about their deployment and fighting was "for (his) sake." The logic of David's command, therefore, was that if they truly wanted to do their job for him, then they would do it in a very particular way. They would not be ruthless. They would not be cruel. They would not make the destruction of the enemy their fierce priority. No, if they really wanted to do what they did "for (his) sake," then they would "deal gently with Absalom."
David's poignant command becomes personal for us because it reminds us that any human opponent you and I have is also someone that our king loves. I say this not as an argument for anti-war pacifism, for that is not close-to-home enough for most of us and our people. No, the fact is that most of us are not called upon to engage in armed conflict, but we are routinely in more ordinary competition and conflict with people around us. The issue may not be killing our opponent. But it is always an open question whether we will be merciful or cruel, whether we will be destructive or not, whether we will "deal gently" with this person whom our King loves. I believe that he commands us to deal gently -- for his sake.
Granted, Absalom does not deserve gentleness. Gentle treatment is not for Absalom's sake or for the sake of whoever our opponents may be. No, it is for the sake of the king. All of which brings us back to the instructions of Paul to the Ephesians: to imitate God and live in love. When we recognize that our God is, above all, a loving Father -- that is the nature of the king we march out to serve -- then we will live, love, and deal gently, accordingly.
Alternative Application
Ephesians 4:25--5:2. "Anger on the horizon." One of the truly lovely and memorable scenes from the 1971 movie Fiddler on the Roof is the family's preparation for the Sabbath meal. The moments leading up to the meal are hectic ones, for there is much to do before the sun goes down. Yet once all the harried preparations are complete, as the sun sets on the little village of Anatevka, there is a sweet peace that prevails. The candles are lit, the family is together, and the Sabbath has begun.
In our day, we know very little about hurrying to beat sundown. We have largely lost any sense of the Sabbath and what sense we may have for it has nothing to do with sundown anymore. Plus, in the ordinary responsibilities of life, we no longer rely exclusively on the sun for our light. We are surrounded with outstanding sources of artificial light that we can do almost all of our work at almost any time of day or night. Even in areas that are primarily agricultural, still I see large farm machinery that is able to flood the fields with enough light that the farmers can continue to work well after the sun has set.
We still know about racing the clock, of course. We live with plenty of deadlines. But the experience of watching the sun sink down into the horizon is purely romantic for us. It doesn't have much practical application in our day.
It did for the people of Paul's day, however. In day-to-day life, absent the sort of artificial light that we enjoy, they knew what it was to have to get things done before the sun went down. For the Jews in Paul's audience, they had that strong, weekly heritage of needing to complete all of their work before the sun set on Friday night. So when Paul said to them, "Do not let the sun go down on your anger," the image had real meaning.
We have our common mutations of the principle, of course. The most common, in my experience, is the husband and wife who have agreed never to go to sleep angry. That may only lead to two sleep-deprived people, as they stay up late in the midst of their unresolved conflict.
Paul, however, was recommending something far more urgent. The sun was inexorably on its way down, and there was nothing a human being could do to stop it, slow it, or pause it. So the people were faced with the same sort of hard deadline in their anger that they were accustomed to in their farming and in their Sabbath observance, namely, get it done quickly, get it done now, for the sun is going down on the horizon.
It is not the traditional instruction of a man at war. It is not the conventional strategy of a king toward his enemy. Rather, this is the peculiar policy of a father who has been overthrown by his son.
I wonder sometimes about the details of that overthrow. In the preceding chapters, we read magnificent accounts of David's military exploits. First, he effectively subdued the neighboring nations -- peoples who had been constant trouble for the tribes of Israel during the time of the judges and the reign of Saul. David expanded the boundaries of Israel in every direction, forcing the neighboring peoples to pay him tribute. Not long before Absalom's revolt, we see David defeat a Syrian force of 700 chariots and 40,000 horsemen (2 Samuel 10:18), and before that he beat back an opponent of some 33,000 (v. 6). Could it possibly be that Absalom's co-conspirators outnumbered these other recent foes, whom David and his men dispatched rather easily?
Early in the conspiracy, we read that Absalom acquired for himself a chariot and fifty men to run before him (2 Samuel 15:1). An entourage for hire. And then, when the moment of revolt came, we see that the ambitious son had surrounded himself with 200 people, who were innocently sucked into the revolt (v. 11). It may well be that Absalom had won the hearts of multitudes, but still I am skeptical that he truly presented a force that could rival David and his armies, which had effectively gained control of the entire region.
How is it, then, that Absalom's homemade revolt was sufficient to send David into exile? If it had been anyone else in the land, do we imagine that it could have come to this -- the king fleeing Jerusalem in ignominy? No, I suspect that any other revolt would have been crushed quickly and completely. But the situation is different when the enemy is the king's son.
2 Samuel 18:5-9, 15, 31-33
What do you do when your enemy is your son?
The story and reign of David is filled with unparalleled highs and unrivaled lows. This episode is among those lows. David had been belittled by his brothers at a young age, but that was a small offense compared to this. He had been taunted by the Philistine giant, and he was quickly vindicated there. He was unjustly pursued and persecuted by King Saul, though the Lord surely protected him through it all. He was snubbed by Nabal, mocked by Michal, frequently frustrated and disappointed by the sons of Zeruiah, corrected by Nathan, and grieved by Amnon. Yet this episode is surely the lowest point in David's eventful life.
For some time, David had been estranged from his son Absalom. We sense that there was great tension and awkwardness between them in the wake of Tamar's rape and Amnon's murder. There was, perhaps, unspoken love on David's part, as well as unspoken bitterness on Absalom's part. It festered to the point where Absalom began to undermine his father among the people.
Eventually, as is almost always the case, what was covert became overt. Absalom rebelled against his father, usurping the throne, and driving David into exile. Now David's forces had to do battle with the forces of Absalom. David found himself at war with his own son, what's a man to do when his enemy is his son?
The king ordered (his officers) saying, "Deal gently for my sake with the young man Absalom." That is a poignant command. There was no dealing gently with the Philistines, the Moabites, or the Amalekites of earlier conflicts. There was no dealing gently with Goliath, in the first and most famous of David's battles. But this was a different case -- a heart-wrenching case. What exactly does victory look like for David in this situation? In the end, we see that victory looks like heartbreak and tragedy.
The men who are loyal to David are pragmatic about Absalom: He is the enemy. And so they killed him. Indeed, one senses from the text that it may have been overkill.
Then the news of this unhappy triumph reached David. But when a messenger from the battle arrived, the king did not ask about any of his soldiers or his commanders or his country or his throne. He asked about his son. The answer, posed as good news, was what David had dreaded most.
So now David had his kingdom back, but he had lost his son. It was not a trade he had wanted to make. David disappears from the scene, he cries out in bitter lament, exclaiming what he wished had happened, instead: "Would I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!"
Ephesians 4:25--5:2
We have several samples of this sort of material in the letters of Paul. I think of them as "quickie instructions." This is not an extended explanation of and teaching about, say, marriage and divorce, eating meat that had been offered to idols, or the Gentiles' relationship to the law. Rather these verses are comprised of ethical one-liners: succinct reminders of what it looks like for those early Christians to live out their faith with one another.
Because there is so much variety squeezed into so few verses, we can hardly do justice to each instruction here. Likewise, we could hardly give adequate attention to all of these words of counsel in a single sermon this Sunday. Our goal instead, should be to see each instruction as part of a larger whole.
That larger whole, it seems to me, is captured in the first verses of chapter 5. The believers are encouraged to "be imitators of God" and to "live in love, as Christ loved us." While the folks who divided the text into chapters and verses evidently saw this as new material, I think that the folks who determined the lectionary readings knew better. I believe that the final verses of chapter 4 are best understood in connection with the first verses of chapter 5.
We see a parallel passage, it seems to me, in Jesus' Sermon on the Mount. Through the second half of Matthew 5, Jesus gives specific instructions about how to respond to mistreatment, how to treat enemies, how to love indiscriminately, and such. Then, at the end of the chapter, he sums up the whole matter with God's own example, saying, "Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect" (Matthew 5:48).
So, too, with these instructions from Paul. The details involve such issues as falsehood, anger, theft, evil talk, bitterness, malice, and such. Yet when it's all said and done, the underlying principle in all of it is, simply, that the people should imitate God and live in love.
The underlying Greek word in 5:1 is mimetes. Our English words "mime" and "mimic" trace back to the same root, which gives us a good sense of what Paul is encouraging the believers to do. We are to mimic God. "Watch what God does," Eugene Peterson renders it, "and then you do it" (Ephesians 5:1a, The Message).
Meanwhile, the key word in 5:2 is peripateo. We recognize the English derivatives involved here too. We note that the King James Version and New American Standard Bible translate it "walk in love" rather than "live in love." In either case, the image is of love becoming our daily routine -- the thing we do habitually rather than occasionally, the rule rather than the exception.
The twin counsels of 5:1 and 5:2, of course, are themselves two ways of saying the same thing: To imitate God is to live in love. And to the extent that we make that our standard operating procedure, then we will naturally "speak the truth to our neighbors," "give up stealing," "let no evil talk come out," and "put away all bitterness" and such. If we imitate him, then of course we will "not make room for the devil," "not grieve the Holy Spirit," and "be kind… tenderhearted (and) forgiving."
In a computer-immersed age, our people will likely recognize the image of "clicking on" something only to have some explanation or elaboration of that thing open up. So it is with this passage. If we "click on" imitating God or walking in love, then the specifics of 4:25-32 will all come up: for they explain what it means to live and love like God.
John 6:35, 41-51
In the gospel of John, the question of "who" is intimately bound up in the question of "where." Who we understand Jesus to be is a function of where we understand that he came from. For as long as the people presume that he is just from Nazareth (John 1:46), just from Joseph (John 6:42), and just from the immediate generation (John 8:57), they are doomed to misunderstand him. In this passage, as in so many throughout the fourth gospel, Jesus' "who" is revealed by his "where." He is from God. He is from heaven.
In this particular instance, he is portrayed specifically as the "bread from heaven." It is a potent image with at least three layers: historical, practical, and sacramental. Each one is at play in our passage, so let us give a moment's thought to each.
First, there is the historical component, which hearkens back to the manna of Moses' day. While that original generation had the bad habit of turning up their noses at God's daily bread, it was rightly cherished by later generations as a testament to the miraculous power and provident care of God. So the ancient memory of the manna was gilded by time, and it was a very significant element of the nation's testimony with which Jesus was identifying himself.
We may do well to ponder for a moment how conversant our people are in the principle of Old Testament patterns, types, and foreshadowing of Jesus. They are likely accustomed to straightforward prophecies, which they associate with Christmas (e.g., Isaiah's promise of Emmanuel or Micah's highlighting of Bethlehem). Stories, characters, and practices that anticipate Jesus, however, may be less familiar to the present generation than they were to their parents and grandparents. The serpent on the pole, Melchizedek, the scapegoat, the Passover Lamb -- all these and more may be largely lost in the prevailing biblical illiteracy. So, too, may be lost the ability to understand the premise of this passage: that Jesus is pointing back to an event in Israel's history and treating it as a type that points to himself.
That brings us to the practical layer of this "bread from heaven" imagery. Just as the writer of Hebrews is insistent on Jesus' superiority to all the forerunners that anticipated the person and work of Christ, so Jesus claims his superiority to the cherished manna of old. The ancestors ate of that former bread from heaven, he observed, but they died. That fact does not diminish the miracle of the manna, of course, it simply points to the very temporary nature of that bread. By contrast, Jesus says, "Whoever eats of this bread will live forever."
Bread was understood as one of life's staples. Moses' generation in the wilderness needed it to stay alive. The crowds of John 6:34 knew their practical need for bread, as well. But there is a greater need and a greater bread!
Finally, in the eating of that greater bread, we recognize a sacramental layer in this language and imagery. While this episode is several chapters removed from John's account of the Last Supper, we see the anticipated connection. Jesus is identifying himself with bread, identifying that bread with his flesh, and identifying the eating of that bread with eternal life. This is not the moment when he takes the bread, breaks it, and says, "This is my body, which is broken for you," but we certainly understand this passage in light of that later moment.
Application
So it was that David fled before the advance of Absalom. As we noted above, it seems unlikely that David would have been so easily defeated -- even if only temporarily -- by any other opponent. In this case, however, one senses that David was inclined to surrender early. In this conflict, however, my guess is that David preferred to flee than to fight.
When the whole terrible episode is over, we see David overcome with grief. As he laments the death of his son, he says that he wishes he had died, instead. I suspect that is the truth. I expect that David would rather lose at his own expense than win at the expense of his son.
Accordingly, he gives his commanders the crucial instruction: "Deal gently for my sake with the young man Absalom." As we have already noted, the command is full of pathos. It is not the emotion but the logic of David's instruction that brings it close to home for us: "for my sake."
David's officers and soldiers were loyal to him. Their allegiance belonged to him and to his throne. So everything about their deployment and fighting was "for (his) sake." The logic of David's command, therefore, was that if they truly wanted to do their job for him, then they would do it in a very particular way. They would not be ruthless. They would not be cruel. They would not make the destruction of the enemy their fierce priority. No, if they really wanted to do what they did "for (his) sake," then they would "deal gently with Absalom."
David's poignant command becomes personal for us because it reminds us that any human opponent you and I have is also someone that our king loves. I say this not as an argument for anti-war pacifism, for that is not close-to-home enough for most of us and our people. No, the fact is that most of us are not called upon to engage in armed conflict, but we are routinely in more ordinary competition and conflict with people around us. The issue may not be killing our opponent. But it is always an open question whether we will be merciful or cruel, whether we will be destructive or not, whether we will "deal gently" with this person whom our King loves. I believe that he commands us to deal gently -- for his sake.
Granted, Absalom does not deserve gentleness. Gentle treatment is not for Absalom's sake or for the sake of whoever our opponents may be. No, it is for the sake of the king. All of which brings us back to the instructions of Paul to the Ephesians: to imitate God and live in love. When we recognize that our God is, above all, a loving Father -- that is the nature of the king we march out to serve -- then we will live, love, and deal gently, accordingly.
Alternative Application
Ephesians 4:25--5:2. "Anger on the horizon." One of the truly lovely and memorable scenes from the 1971 movie Fiddler on the Roof is the family's preparation for the Sabbath meal. The moments leading up to the meal are hectic ones, for there is much to do before the sun goes down. Yet once all the harried preparations are complete, as the sun sets on the little village of Anatevka, there is a sweet peace that prevails. The candles are lit, the family is together, and the Sabbath has begun.
In our day, we know very little about hurrying to beat sundown. We have largely lost any sense of the Sabbath and what sense we may have for it has nothing to do with sundown anymore. Plus, in the ordinary responsibilities of life, we no longer rely exclusively on the sun for our light. We are surrounded with outstanding sources of artificial light that we can do almost all of our work at almost any time of day or night. Even in areas that are primarily agricultural, still I see large farm machinery that is able to flood the fields with enough light that the farmers can continue to work well after the sun has set.
We still know about racing the clock, of course. We live with plenty of deadlines. But the experience of watching the sun sink down into the horizon is purely romantic for us. It doesn't have much practical application in our day.
It did for the people of Paul's day, however. In day-to-day life, absent the sort of artificial light that we enjoy, they knew what it was to have to get things done before the sun went down. For the Jews in Paul's audience, they had that strong, weekly heritage of needing to complete all of their work before the sun set on Friday night. So when Paul said to them, "Do not let the sun go down on your anger," the image had real meaning.
We have our common mutations of the principle, of course. The most common, in my experience, is the husband and wife who have agreed never to go to sleep angry. That may only lead to two sleep-deprived people, as they stay up late in the midst of their unresolved conflict.
Paul, however, was recommending something far more urgent. The sun was inexorably on its way down, and there was nothing a human being could do to stop it, slow it, or pause it. So the people were faced with the same sort of hard deadline in their anger that they were accustomed to in their farming and in their Sabbath observance, namely, get it done quickly, get it done now, for the sun is going down on the horizon.
